


I Hope You're Home

by Elpie (Horribibble)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Doctor Dorian, Fluff, Hawke Pack, M/M, Vet Cullen, Werewolves, Witch Mia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horribibble/pseuds/Elpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian receives a panicked late-night call from Felix. He is not at <em>all</em> prepared for Felix's boyfriend. </p>
<p>-or-</p>
<p>Do you take your werewolf boyfriend to the vet or the doctor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hope You're Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jack_the_giantkiller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jack_the_giantkiller/gifts).



> Please note that in this 'verse, Dorian is a practicing Necromancer, which is considered secret and taboo in Fereldan. A 'black market' practice, if you will. If it gets out, it will be impossible to continue practicing medicine. 
> 
> I'll gladly accept prompts for this universe over [on tumblr.](http://anabundanceofstilinskis.tumblr.com/)

“Listen you pestulant little stain upon humankind, it is two o’ clock in the morning, and I am neither pleasantly buzzed nor wrapped in the muscular arms of a well-endowed musician. I have  _ work  _ tomorrow.  _ Who is this  _ and  _ what is your emergency? _ ”

“Dorian?”

“Felix? This number isn’t in my contacts.”

“It’s Carver’s, Dee. He’s...he smashed mine.”

“...He  _ what? _ ”

“It wasn’t his fault! He didn’t mean it. Mia says...Mia says he’s in a bad way.”

“And who the devil is Mia?!” 

Felix can hear the rustling of sheets as Dorian throws himself out of bed, lurching into that quick alertness that serves him so well as a doctor. Dorian is coming. Dorian is going to help. Felix lets out a raspy breath. 

“Cullen’s sister. Cullen is Carver’s friend.”

“Ah, yes. The elusive  _ boyfriend  _ I haven’t met. The one who’s smashed your phone.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Felix, if I find out this shitbag has  _ hit  _ you, I can only hope you’ve packed your things, because there is nothing that will stop me from burning his house down.”

“Dorian, I appreciate that. I really do. But this  _ really isn’t his fault.  _ Something’s happened to him, Dorian. Something awful, and I need your help because I love him. I really do.”

The noise from Dorian’s end of the line stops abruptly, as if Dorian has paused in dragging on one of his ridiculously soft shirts to better process this information. “Oh.”

“Was going to introduce you, you know. Meet the family and all.” His laughter sounds backed up, damp. Like it’s stuck in the back of his throat. 

He hates that. 

“I’m on my way, then.”

“I know. I’ll text you the address.”

-

It takes Dorian fifteen minutes to get to Carver’s house, tucked up against the edge of a wooded area. During the day, the setting is picturesque. Right now all Felix can see in the window is rain battering the glass and his own pale reflection. 

He’s been huddled up in the mouth of the hallway ever since Cullen came and dragged Carver off of him. He’s still in his boyfriend’s sweatshirt, which always looks comically large on him. It’s not so funny now, with the marks in it from where Carver’s teeth caught and dragged. 

He sees headlights flicker in the distance, and glances back down toward the bathroom door to see Cullen tense up. On the other side, Carver redoubles his efforts, throwing his full weight against the door even as Cullen levers his own weight to keep it shut. 

“None of that, now.” Cullen says. “We’ve got one chance at this. You said your friend can help, right?”

“Maker, I hope so.”

“Then you should probably let him in.”

“I have it.” Mia sighs, stepping over them both on her way to the front door. She reaches down briefly to touch Felix’s cheek as she passes, leaving a tingling warmth behind. His tears are dry. 

Inside the bathroom, Carver howls. 

-

Dorian is soaked to the bone, sluicing water onto the ‘Wipe Your Paws’ doormat Bethany’d bought her twin as a housewarming gift. His hair is plastered against his forehead, and he hasn’t bothered raking it back into place. 

He looks just as frazzled and miserable as the rest of them, visible bags under his eyes and a pillow-crease fading on his cheek. He’s wearing a nightshirt, a pair of gym shorts, and a frankly intimidating pair of boots with their laces sloppily done. The plastic nug on his keychain makes a squealing noise and lights up as he shoves the set into his pocket. 

“You must be Dorian.” Mia says. 

“Are there a great deal of people rushing over here in the middle of the night?”

She blinks at him. 

“That was uncalled for. Is Felix all right?”

“He’s upset, a bit shaken but physically unhurt.” She steps out of the doorway, motioning for Dorian to step inside. He doesn’t bother to take off his boots, and leaves puddles as he follows behind her, ignoring the heavy sound of the front door swinging shut. “I’m Mia, by the way.”

“A pleasure. I’d like to see Felix.”

“I’m right here, Dee.” Felix sighs, and Dorian performs a quick sweep of the room before landing on his friend. He plods over and drops into a graceless squat before reaching out to check him for injuries. “Nothing’s broken, you ass. I’m just a little sore.”

“You said it wasn’t like that!”

“He didn’t hit me on  _ purpose! _ ”

“Do you understand how you sound right now?!” Dorian hisses. 

There’s a sharp  _ thud  _ followed by baying from further down the hall. Cullen gives a tired little wave when they all glance over. “We might want to move this along before he takes the door off the frame.”

“ _ What in the Void, Felix? _ ”

“You have to promise not to be angry.” Felix says, just the same way as he has done since they were children and he’d stained Dorian’s favorite blanket with grape juice. 

“ _ Fuck,  _ Felix.”

Cullen groans. “He’s dating a werewolf. The Hawke clan--of which Carver here,” He jerks his thumb at the door he’s barricading. “Is a member. I’m the pack vet, you might say. Mia is my sister.”

“A witch,” She adds, ever the helpful one. “On call.”

“ _ How nice _ .” Dorian squeaks, still processing ‘werewolf.’

“Right, see, medically speaking I could help him, if we didn’t have two problems. One being that he’s not exactly cooperating, and two being that there is apparently  _ nothing wrong with him physically. _ ”

There’s another shuddering  _ thud  _ against the door. 

“We thought Mia might be able to suss it out, but no dice. That’s when your name came up.”

“You assume I’m some kind of werewolf whisperer?”

“He’s scared, Dorian.” Felix says, his expression open and impossibly sad. “He just wanted to protect me.”

Dorian pauses to take a deep breath. “You think someone’s got him all tangled up in a Horror spell.”

“It’s the only explanation I can think of.” Felix says, doing his level best to smile. “And who better to ask about creepy shit than you?”

“...We’re going to have to open the door, aren’t we?”

“Sadly, yes.” Cullen grunts. “But you’re not the one who has to get a hold of him.”

“I wish I had more faith in those lovely muscles of yours...Cullen, was it?”

“It was.”

“I suppose you realize I’m a necromancer.”

“I do.”

“If you let him shred me, you’ll be the one I come to haunt.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“See that you do.”

-

Of all the experiences Dorian Pavus never wants to repeat, having a two hundred something pound  _ wolf  _ barrel toward him, teeth bared and flinging drool is high up on the list, right under  _ receive magical lobotomy.  _

But Cullen is quick to grapple the beast-- _ Carver _ , Dorian thinks with a hysterical giggle, Felix’s  _ boyfriend _ \--in a proper hold to allow Dorian a proper look. He crouches several feet away before inching closer, wary of the way the animal thrashes and snarls. 

“Any day now would be wonderful!” Cullen grits out, and Dorian finally closes the gap. 

He buries his fingers in the thick, surprisingly soft coat, and seeks out vulnerable skin. He can  _ feel  _ the toxic effects of the spell, leaching into the beast’s mind and clouding its vision. The process of dispelling the illusion would probably be trying if not for Dorian’s own genius, partnered with a healthy dose of terror. 

He does not  _ want  _ to experience those teeth firsthand. 

When Carver finally goes limp, the change takes over, and Cullen lets him roll onto the floor, naked and riddled with rapidly healing bruises. 

“What hit me?” He groans. 

“Your own stupid ego, I’ll bet.” Cullen replies. “Stop pissing off mysterious hags. You nearly bit Felix.”

Dorian does not get a chance to say  **_and me!_ ** because Carver is already dragging his aching body towards Felix, who is once again crying. 

Dorian wants to hate the man at least a little, but it’s hard while he’s watching him bundle Felix into a secure embrace and whisper apologies into his hair.

...The ass doesn’t hurt. 

-

Mia sees the shaken couple safely upstairs and goes about tucking them in as she does, apparently, for her own three children. 

Carver attempts to apologize properly to them all, and to puzzle out exactly what happened, but Mia insists that it will all keep ‘til morning. No objections. So Carver curls obediently around his mate, a deep, satisfied rumble echoing in his chest as Mia sings them a sweet tune and brushes the hair from their tired eyes. 

Witch lights flicker and shift in the air above them, and the sound echoes down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

Cullen presses Dorian’s shaking fingers around a large coffee cup emblazoned with ‘ **I smile because you’re my brother. I laugh because there’s nothing you can do about it.’**

“Werewolves,” Dorian grumbles. “I doubt this night could get any stranger.”

“I don’t know. We could talk about my lovely muscles.”

Dorian looks at him in open confusion for a moment before it all seems to catch up. “Ugh, you’re horrid.” He takes a long sip of his coffee, feeling it sting his throat and tongue as Cullen laughs. 

It lights up his whole face, all honest lines and handsome angles. 

“You’re a doctor, aren’t you? Will you be on call in the morning?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Do you have time for breakfast?”

“That depends on what you had in mind.”

“I could make you an omelet. By which I mean scrambled eggs.”

“With cheese?”

“Of course.”

“...This isn’t your house.”

“I figure after tonight’s shitfest, the least Carver can do is spot us some eggs.”

Dorian watches with rapt interest as the other man rolls his horrid flannel sleeves up over muscular forearms and decides,  _ what the hell.  _

“Have you ever played an instrument?”


End file.
